Harder Now That It's Over
by only-because3
Summary: Her weariness of the boy that still holds her heart is gone and for a second, she almost wishes that feeling would come back. Because this feeling of utter sadness is killing her slowly and has been for the past two years. LP Oneshot


Hey all! So this is short but I think I ended it where it ended the best (if that makes sense lol). It's LP (don't shoot me my BL readers!) and I hope that I've done them justice. Thanks to Corey and my LPer test readers! Hope y'all enjoy!

He walks with his hands behind his back in to his mother's club, which is now part music studio for a blonde that is as much apart of him as anything else. She ends her phone call with whomever when she catches a glimpse of him. She looks at him, almost bothered but still obviously guarded and sets her phone down on her stand. His face looks regretful and apologetic and she looks down at the blank sheet of paper on her board. "I don't hate you," he says simply, straight forward to the blonde sitting on the stool.

She looks up at him, relieved but also a little unsure as to whether or not she should believe his sober words over his intoxicated ones. So she doesn't say anything, just stares at him with black lined eyes, her wavy hair falling around her face. He steps closer towards her, delving further into the space that used to soley be his mother's. "I remember the first time I ever saw you," he begins, a small, almost unnoticeable smile finding its way on to his face through his words. He takes a deep breath, walking even closer to her and she internally braces herself for what's to come next.

"All skinny arms," he continues, his smile even more prominent than before. "And tangled mess of hair..."

She'd been sitting around the big tree in the center of the courtyard at their middle school. Even then she had on dirtied hi-top Converses and dark washed jeans. She was trading her chips for Brooke's peanut butter and banana sandwich. It's something he'd noticed that they did everyday, a ritual between two friends. She was lanky compared to Brooke's stout form and her bright curly hair fell in masses everywhere. Every day he looked at her, he learned a little bit more, liked her a little bit more.

He looks at her again, taking his gaze off of the dirtied cement floor they walk upon. It's always been a love hate relationship with his eyes. She loves their color; that beautiful icy blue that seem to hold so much more than Nathan's. She loves their depth; like they could go on for ever and ever. She hates their intensity; that they could bore holes into her body and soul. She hates that they seem to see straight through every lie when she doesn't want them to. And she hates that they can be so oblivious when he _needs_ the truth.

She stays silent, tries to keep the smile that keeps fighting it's way on to her face at bay. She doesn't look at him, not yet, just stares into the blank swimming space of the plain sheet of paper. "It was hard letting you go Peyton," he says sadly, his eyes glossing over. She looks up at him once the words leave his mouth, her eyebrows coming together not in confusion but sadness. Her weariness of the boy that still holds her heart is gone and for a second, she almost wishes that feeling would come back. Because this feeling of utter sadness is killing her slowly and has been for the past two years.

She looks away slowly, unsure of how to react to his laced words. "It was hard losing you." Now it's his turn to look away from her because, truth be told, there's not a moment that goes by where he can look at her and his heart doesn't break into two. "And it was hard seeing you again." He returns his gaze to her just as she takes a chance and looks at him. "It's still _really_ hard," he finishes, nodding his head a few times slowly with those infamous squinty eyes.

She nods slightly too, letting out a slow even breath before closing her eyes. "I know," she whispers, opening her eyes to look at him and the hard expression he wears. It's funny that he's coming over to in a sense apologize to her, telling her all these poetically and wonderfully sad things, yet the looks on his face is that of reservence. She takes a deep breath, getting up the strength to tell him the one thing no one else knows.

"While I'm asleep," she starts, looking at the blank ground, letting it all gather in her mind. Letting it play over and over again. "I have this dream where we're back," she looks up at him, meeting his eyes, "in that hotel in LA." Her voice is low and careful, as if uttering these words can't be said aloud. "And you propose to me. And every single time I say yes."

She hates it. Hates herself for saying no. It's the stupidest mistake of her life and she can't fix it. Can't take back the words that've left her mouth and it seems that no matter what she does, it'll never be good enough and it'll never change.

Lucas raises his brow, his face unchanged through her heartfelt words. "It's just a dream right?" He shrugs, like it doesn't matter and it enrages her. It's not _just a dream_. It's her world. It's what the last few years of her wandering life has been built on. It's what has shaped her into who she is now. He's what shaped her.

"It's my dream," she whispers and it hurts. It hurts because he knows he can't give her what she wants. He can't make her dream come true, at least not now.

His face softens, looks at her with sad sympathetic eyes. There used to be a time where he wanted to make every single one of her dreams come true. But he can't do it, not this time. Can't get drawn into what they used to be and the person he used to be. He's changed, he knows it. Hardened yet soft, caring yet detached. It's simpler living this way because then he can't get hurt. Not anymore, at least not directly. "I'm sorry," he tells her once again, apologizing for the same thing and different things at the same time.

She nods slowly, picking up the pen in front of her and playing with it in her hands, her gaze remaining down, her blonde hair acting as a shield from the boy. "Doesn't change anything does it," she asks, pushing her hair behind her ear and looking at him with tear filled hazel eyes. He looks away from her, her words pushing away any chance he thought of making this better. His apologies aren't enough to save her this time from the tears that will rush down her cheeks, from the pain and anger he knows she feels. He's not enough.

So when she brings the stand closer to her, opening the pen in her hand and starting a sketch, he stands up from his position on the pool table. He doesn't say another word as he walks out of the room and the building and _the girl _that had been a constant in his life for years. He's leaving it all behind because he needs to figure out what he wants.

And she doesn't say a word as she watches him leave once his back is turned. Just sighs once he's gone and looks down at the sketch she's started, wondering if it's all worth it. Wonders if it's worth it to hold on to a boy who can break her so easily. Wonders if it's worth it to try and fix something that happened years ago. Wonders if it's worth fixing.

She lets out another sigh and throws the pen down. She hates that life has gotten so damn complicated.

And in the parking lot of the club that Peyton had practically started, Lucas wonders the same thing.


End file.
